


Friday the 13th: Hogan Style

by Snooky



Category: Hogan's Heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 16:27:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2316032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snooky/pseuds/Snooky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, you could possibly call it Hogan's really bad and really bizarre weekend;from his point of view that is.  Originally published on FF.net in 2010.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Chapter 1  
A/N I'd like to thank ColHogan for suggesting the title. And a big thank you to my Beta for giving the chapter a once-over.

Friday the 13: Hogan Style

Chapter 1

October 13, 1944

11:58 PM

Well, this is ironic. Wake up this morning in one cell, end the day in another. Although, Hogan thought, given the circumstances, this one is a lot more pleasant. He contemplated the tray that had been placed on the small desk that was attached to the wall, rolled off the cot, walked over and picked up a biscuit. Hmmm. A bit dry. Hogan put the biscuit down and started to pour himself a cup of tea. Oops. Milk first. Hogan repeated the process and took a sip out of the china cup. He then dunked the half-eaten biscuit. "That's better," he said out loud. After his snack; a process that killed five minutes, Hogan had no other choice but to return to the cot, wait patiently for someone to finally believe he was who he said he was, and try not to panic at the thought of what might be going on in the camp. The colonel closed his eyes; but although he was dog-tired, the recollection of how this day had started invaded his thoughts and he could not fall asleep.

October 13, 1944

12:02 AM

Technically speaking it was today. Minutes after midnight to be exact. Hogan had just finished meeting an Underground contact in a busy nearby Hofbrau. After exchanging information over a few beers, the two men decided to leave at different times. The contact left first. After fifteen minutes had gone by, Hogan paid the bill, walked out the door and headed straight into a group of Gestapo agents. This wasn't the first time this had happened. Previously, Hogan's fake papers and flawless German would have sufficed and he would have been on his merry way. Unfortunately, this time, Hogan had the bad luck to run into a Gestapo agent with a photographic memory. Hogan recognized the agent as the one who slapped a set of handcuffs on him after he was caught entering a contact's room in a Hammelburg hotel. The agent recognized the man standing in front of him as the prisoner he had caught entering a traitor's room in a hotel in Hammelburg. Yes, despite the business suit, he was one hundred percent certain that it was the American colonel. Without missing a beat, he removed his revolver and pointed it at Hogan's chest.

"You! You're an escaped prisoner. Hands up!" he ordered in English. "I never forget a face, Colonel Hogan." He moved in closer.

Hogan had a split second to determine if he should try and talk his way out of the mess, or give up. Talking his way out would mean speaking German; which, if he wasn't believed, would further complicate matters. He remained quiet.

Another agent began frisking the American and removed the papers and some money. He handed the papers to Hogan's new nemesis; who glanced at them and said, "So, you've been planning this for a while. You know, I always suspected there was more to you than meets the eye. Now why would you be here, dressed in a business suit, instead of hiding in the woods?"

"Asking for directions?" Hogan quickly decided he was in trouble and hoped for the best: a ride back to camp and a stint in the cooler.

"I see he can talk," the other agent joked. "He was probably meeting a contact."

"No doubt. Care to confirm that, Colonel?"

"No," Hogan replied. He winced as cuffs were placed around his wrists.

"Let's go," the first agent ordered.

Hogan was taken to a staff car and placed in the back seat, where he settled himself in for an uncomfortable ride back to camp. "Sorry, I didn't get your names," he asked.

"Captain Bergmann." The second agent didn't answer. "You know, Colonel," Bergmann continued, "After that debacle in the hotel, the false air raid alarm, the fact that we lost a prisoner. It didn't sit well with our superiors. Something tells me you were somehow involved." (1)

"Don't see how, Captain. One of my men was forced to design and fit a wedding gown for the general's niece. We were under guard the entire time." Hogan tensed up; he didn't know why, as he caught sight of the guard towers.

The guards, which, as per usual, were following the stalag's notoriously bad gate security, let the car in without inspecting the occupants. The guard on duty outside Klink's quarters stumbled out of his stupor, ran towards the Gestapo vehicle and saluted. Bergmann and his partner got out. "Get your Kommandant, soldier. We have someone in the back, whom he would be most interested in seeing."

"Yes, sir, Captain." The guard quickly scurried while Bergmann reached into the back seat and roughly pulled Hogan out of the car.

"Easy," he said. "Ah, home sweet home," he grumbled. "I was so close, too." He smiled at the other Gestapo agent, who did not smile back.

Hogan looked around the compound as the searchlight passed over his barracks; his eagle eye spying what he was looking for. The car had been spotted and the periscope was up. He turned his attention back to Klink's quarters and waited. "You know, Captain, the Kommandant gets very ornery if he's disturbed. He's not called the Iron Colonel for nothing, you know. Just a warning." Hogan laughed. "We could just call everything even, let it go and neither of us gets in trouble."

"Shut up!"

Hogan closed his mouth and sighed. It was too late. Klink, who had quickly dressed, came marching out of his quarters.

"What is the meaning of this?" The Kommandant looked at the Gestapo agent, then at Hogan, and then back at the Gestapo agent. He then ignored the agents and stood face to face with Hogan. "You better have a good explanation."

"I escaped. Would have made it; except for these two." Hogan grinned.

"Escaped. No one escapes from Stalag 13."

"So I've heard," Bergmann sneered.

"How did you get out?" Klink whispered to Hogan.

"Um..."

"Can we go into your office, Kommandant?" Bergmann asked.

"Yes," Hogan eagerly agreed. "Can we? It's embarrassing, standing out here. And can you take these things off?"

Bergmann nodded and the other agent, Hogan had dubbed him Fritz, unlocked the cuffs. Klink, who Hogan could tell, was already becoming apoplectic, led the way into the office. He told the guard to wake Schultz and then the four men entered the building.

Hogan, now more comfortable knowing that his men would be listening in, sat down without an invitation and decided not to speak unless spoken to.

"Hogan, you didn't answer my question. How did you get out?"

"Kommandant, would you believe a helicopter?"

"Hoogaan..."

"Sorry. Cut the wire. You know there's a blind spot I recently discovered by..." Hogan was counting on one of his men running outside to cut the wire. "Oh, I know I can't beat you at your game, sir. Tower 6. There. I said it."

Klink opened the door. "Guard. Have everyone fall out for a surprise roll call. And then check the wire by Tower 6."

"Kommandant. May I see the Colonel's file?"

"Oh, of course, Captain. One moment." Klink left the office and a moment later returned with a thick folder.

"We believe he was actually meeting a contact," Bergmann said as he started to read the contents of the folder. He was picked up at the Hofbrau off of Hammelburg Road.

"That's preposterous," Klink said. He turned to Hogan. "How did you expect to get out of Germany going in that direction only knowing a few German phrases?"

"My good looks?" Hogan grinned, but got no reaction. No one appreciates a sense of humor anymore. "Can I go back to the barracks and get out of this suit, Kommandant? It itches." He looked at the Gestapo guards. "I don't recommend making civilian suits out of blankets. Not too comfortable."

Klink sighed and opened the door. "Schultz? Go to Hogan's barracks and bring back a uniform."

Bergmann approached Hogan. "Who was your contact, Colonel and why were you meeting at the Hofbrau? And we will get a description, after we question the customers and proprietors."

And you won't find him. He'll be long gone. Hogan knew as soon as the roll call was completed, radio contact would be made and the contact would be told to leave the area. Hogan decided to put a spin on his tale.

"I was there to get a map and directions."

"There was no map in your possession," Bergmann countered.

"He told me to head west and someone in a bakery truck would pick me up. They would flash their lights three times. They were my next contact."

Hogan could tell Klink was entranced by his tale and believing every word, while it appeared that the two agents weren't buying a word of it.

"This wasn't my first time out, you know," Hogan told Klink. "The first time out I ran into a civilian who promised to get me in touch with someone who could help me out and... You know," Hogan snapped his fingers, "I bet this was a set-up." He turned to Klink. "Kommandant, you did it again. Can't put anything past you, sir. No sirree."

"Well, I..." Klink beamed.

There was a knock at the door. "Come in," Klink said.

"Thanks, Schultz!" Hogan stood and took his uniform. "And you also brought my jacket and cap! Good man."

"Go in the outer office and change. Schultz, make sure he doesn't try anything."

Hogan left the office and returned in two minutes.

"Gentlemen," Klink said. "It's now almost 1 a.m. Thank you for bringing back my prisoner. He'll be appropriately punished. Can we call it a night?"

"Kommandant," Bergmann closed the file. "I'm not sure Colonel Hogan was just an ordinary escaped prisoner. You see, he and I have tangled once before."

"You have?"

"At Burkhalter's niece's wedding. Somehow I believe he may have had something to do with the unfortunate circumstances surrounding that whole affair. But we have no proof. And now this."

"You have no proof," Hogan stated.

"No proof," Klink repeated.

And this, Hogan recalled as he enjoyed a second cup of tea, is when things went from not so bad, to really bad. No, not really bad. Horrible.

(1) "Gowns by Yvette"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Chapter 2  
"Friday the 13th, Hogan Style"

Chapter 2

October 13, 1944 1:00 am

"Colonel Klink, may I take a moment to remind you of some recent history? First, Colonel Hogan, may I congratulate you on your stellar record as commander of the 504th? Quite an accomplishment. All those bombing runs."

"What's your point, Captain?" Hogan demanded.

"My point? My point is this. Actually, I have two points. "Klink, you are aware of the orders handed down in May regarding captured airmen?"(1)

"What orders?" Klink stammered.

"It's possible the Luftwaffe never sent the orders down," Fritz said.

"Hitler's orders that enemy airmen should be executed without court-martial," Bergmann coldly replied.

"What?" Both Hogan and Klink said simultaneously.

"Terrorflieger. Do you know the term, Colonel?"

"I never deliberately bombed civilians," said Hogan in as calm a voice as he could muster.

"He's under Luftwaffe protection. Besides, he's been here since 1942. You can't retroactively apply an order that has just been issued," Klink argued.

"Well, I don't know about that." Bergmann went over to his partner and whispered something in his ear.

"Kommandant, I need to use the phone outside." Fritz left without waiting for Klink to respond.

"Colonel Hogan, I assume you were made aware of the, how should I say it, shift in policy regarding the recapturing of escaped prisoners."

"I'm not sure I know where you're going with this, Captain." Hogan did have an idea, but wouldn't admit it. He suddenly felt butterflies forming in his stomach.

"Kommandant, you did inform the camp of the mass escape at Stalag Luft III, and the consequences of that escape?" (2)

Klink, who had taken his chair, popped up. "I did. I met with Colonel Hogan as soon as I received the information. But, I have the right to discipline my prisoners as I see fit."

Fritz returned to the office and nodded at Bergmann.

"And the Gestapo has the right to countermand your orders. This man is a recaptured prisoner and a terrorflieger. He's to be executed."

"What!" Both Klink and Hogan yelled.

"You heard me," Bergmann replied. "Lock him up, Klink, and arrange for a firing squad."

"I will not." Klink was adamant.

"Fine. We'll bring our own in, then."

Klink stood there, frozen, while Hogan, without thinking, began to back up towards the door.

"Where do you think you are going, Colonel?" Fritz pulled out his gun.

"To get my lawyer?" Hogan croaked.

"Come on," Bergmann ordered. "Let's go. Klink, put him in a cell for the rest of the night."

Bergmann opened the door and pushed the now stunned Colonel outside, while Klink followed. Schultz, who was waiting on the porch, scurried over.

"Schultz, take Colonel Hogan to the cooler," Klink said. He then whispered in Hogan's ear, "I'll make some phone calls. But after I get you out of this, there will be hell to pay."

Hogan had no time to respond as the two Gestapo agents rushed him along.

Fortunately, Schultz plopped him in an enclosed cell with a tunnel entrance. The two Gestapo agents arranged for two guards to patrol outside the window, and two more were assigned to the corridor. Hogan sat down on the bench and waited. Within five minutes he heard the telltale signs of movement beneath the floor. He got up and shifted the sink. It was Carter who poked his head through.

"One word, sir, and you can come down and hide. We'll have you out to the sub in a jiffy."

"Can't, Carter. Two guards out there." Hogan pointed to the door. "Two outside. They'll figure out soon enough I went through the floor."

Carter's face fell. "Figured you'd say that. Anyway, Klink is trying to reach Burkhalter. We'll keep you posted. The two goons left and Kinch can call as General Kinchmeyer if things get too heavy."

"Sounds like a plan," Hogan said glumly.

"Oh, I forgot," Carter snapped his fingers. "Your contact's been notified. He's moving out of the area."

"That's good, Carter. Thanks. Keep me posted."

"Will do, sir." Carter left and Hogan pushed back the sink and waited.

An hour later, Hogan, who was dozing, was woken up by the sound of keys turning. Finally. He stood up.

It was Klink and he did not look happy. "I can't find General Burkhalter. He's on an inspection tour in Poland and no one can seem to reach him."

"That's not good." Hogan sat down.

"But," Klink raised his hand. "Somehow a General Kinchmeyer got word of this and called. He said this is an outrage and should be stopped immediately."

"Then that's good!" Hogan stood up.

"But," Klink stopped Hogan. "I called that agent, Bergmann. He said he would get authorization that trumped General Kinchmeyer's. Actually, he said he never heard of General Kinchmeyer."

"But, sir, you've mentioned him before."

"True," Klink replied. "But, now I have to see who trumps whom."

"What is this?" Hogan shouted. "Bridge?"

"I need to go." Klink shook his fist.

"Kommandant," Hogan pointed to his watch, "We're running out of time."

Hogan began to pace. He counted the cracks in the ceiling. He estimated the square footage of the cell. He looked out the window. The two guards were there. He cursed Burkhalter's niece, the hotel, the niece's fiancé and the agent who was caught. The sink began to move; this time revealing Newkirk.

"LeBeau thought you might need a little something, sir." He handed Hogan a sandwich.

Hogan refused. "My stomach is off," he complained. "What's going on?"

"No word from Burkhalter. The goons are on their way back with authorization."

"From whom?" Hogan asked.

"We don't know. They went to Dusseldorf, which is where they're from by the way. We're trying to find out if any big-wigs are up there."

"Good," Hogan was impressed. "You're all one step ahead of me."

"Learned from the best," Newkirk grinned, but he looked worried. "Klink's now going crazy. He put in a call to Hochstetter. Like that would help."

"No, wait a minute." Hogan thought for a second. "Hochstetter's been after me for years. He might start a turf war."

"A what?" Newkirk asked.

"A war over jurisdiction. Of course, he'd probably be the one to pull the trigger."

"He'd want to question you first, wouldn't he?"

"Yep. And I was caught outside camp in a civilian suit. I'm doomed," Hogan now realized.

"Don't give up 'ope, Colonel. We'll think of something." Newkirk hopped back into the tunnel.

Another few hours went by and the clock ticked close to the final hour. The next visitor was Klink. He looked pale and shaken.

"I take it it's not good news, sir."

"Does the name Goering mean anything to you? That's who signed the authorization. He was in Dusseldorf." Klink showed a piece of paper to Hogan. Sure enough, it was signed by the head of the Luftwaffe.

"I guess that trumps Burkhalter," Hogan sighed.

"I'm afraid so," Klink replied. "I could try the Fuhrer, but he's the one that ordered the executions of the escaped prisoners. And it's the middle of the night."

"I know." Hogan turned away. "Thanks for trying."

"Hogan, why? Why did you try it? After all this time and with the Allies getting closer?" Hogan turned around. Klink really believed it was an escape.

"It's the duty of every officer to escape, sir."

October 13, 1944 5:00 a.m.

Dawn came, and with it a visit from Kinch and LeBeau.

"We heard about Goering," LeBeau looked distraught.

"There's been no word from Burkhalter or Hochstetter," Kinch reported. "You need to come down now and we can start the evacuation…if those are your orders," Kinch quickly added.

"No evacuation."

"But sir," LeBeau protested.

"Some of the men will be recaptured and they'll be shot. I'm not risking it." Hogan told him. "That's my final decision. No arguments."

"But this whole scenario is so ridiculous," Kinch argued to no avail. "It's not like you were caught red-handed. They'll still believe you escaped."

"I'm not so sure," Hogan retorted. "And it doesn't matter now. Kinch, LeBeau, you know your orders." This was Hogan's sign that the discussion was over.

"The safety of the rest of the prisoners comes first," Kinch recited.

Hogan nodded. LeBeau was holding back tears and Kinch's eyes were glistening. They both reluctantly climbed into the tunnel. Hogan again shoved over the sink and waited. The Colonel fidgeted for the next hour. He drummed his fingers on the edge of the cot. Paced back and forth, again. Looked out the window. Stared at a spider's web and tried everything he possibly could to forget about what had happened and what was about to happen. As 6 a.m. grew closer, he became more agitated. Reluctantly, Hogan recalled that he had always assumed he would be brave and calm in the face of death. But he never imagined it would happen like this. Chances were he would have been caught at a sabotage job, rescuing an airman, or smuggling plans. Not at a simple meeting with a contact; by running into a Gestapo agent with a photographic memory, who met him once, over a year ago. The scenario was, as Kinch said, ridiculous. And the fact that they sort of bought his escape story, made it worse. Yeah, I thought I would be calm and brave, for the men, especially if they were out there with me. Oh, brother. Better hide it. Hogan's palms were beginning to sweat.

6 a.m.

Shortly after this epiphany, he heard the key turn in the lock and to his surprise, Schultz and Langenscheidt walked in. Was this a last minute reprieve?

"Please tell me this is good news!" Hogan asked them hopefully.

"Sorry, no. But the Kommandant asked us to fetch you instead of those Gestapo men." Schultz stepped forward.

He and Langenscheidt looked so forlorn, that Hogan felt he had to apologize.

"Gee, I'm sorry I've had to put you two through this. But I do appreciate the friendly escort."

"It's okay, Colonel," Langenscheidt said quietly, as he pulled out a set of cuffs. "We volunteered. I'm sorry, I have to put these on. Regulations."

Hogan turned and closed his eyes briefly as the corporal cuffed his hands behind his back. Schultz and Langenscheidt then led him up onto the compound where the firing squad had assembled near the rec hall. No prisoners were outside, having obviously been confined to their barracks. Klink was still arguing fruitlessly with Fritz and Bergmann, while several guards stood by.

Schultz gave the two Gestapo agents a nasty look as he brought Hogan forward.

"This is utterly ridiculous," Klink continued to argue.

"I agree with him," Hogan's mouth now felt like he had swallowed a bucket of sand.

"Quiet!" Bergmann looked at Hogan. "You have no say in this matter." He waved a sheet of paper. "The head of the Luftwaffe has spoken. There's no protection for you now," he said a little too gleefully.

"He gives the German air force a really bad name," Hogan responded.

"Oh, let's get this over with. Have him stand over there." Bergmann signaled Schultz and Langenscheidt, who refused to budge. "Klink! Control your men," Bergmann yelled.

"I'll go." Hogan, who had given up at this point, started to walk towards the rec hall, but stopped as a Gestapo staff car came screaming through the gate and screeched to a halt next to the small group of men. An obviously extremely enraged Hochstetter stepped out.

(1) May, 1944: Hitler issued a decree making everyone in the Allied air forces a terrorflieger (terror flyer), allowing them to be executed without a court-martial if shot down. The Nazi's encouraged civilians to lynch captured pilots and allowed those who were turned over to the SD (intelligence arm of the SS) to be killed. Hitler was apparently angry over the destruction caused by Allied air raids. The policy was carried out haphazardly and sporadically and the Luftwaffe did not pass down the order.

(2) "The Great Escape" 76 men made it through the tunnel, but # 77 was spotted. (200 men were slated to go through) At first, Hitler ordered all the recaptured prisoners to be executed, but he later reduced the amount. 50 were shot and only 3 out of the original 76 successfully made it out of the country.

Research from: Bard, Mitchell. The Complete Idiot's Guide to World War II. 2nd ed. New York: Alpha Books, 2004. 262-264.

a/n I originally purchased the above book to get a easy to decipher timeline. But, I discovered that it has a terrific chapter on POW's. And yes, it does mention "Hogan's Heroes." It is one of the few printed sources, by the way, that actually delves into the fate of Jewish POW's.

Would these incidents legally justify Bergmann's actions in this story? I don't know. However, he does appear to hold a grudge!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Chapter 3  
Friday the 13th, Hogan Style

Chapter 3

October 13, 1944 6 a.m.

"What is going on here?" Hochstetter bellowed, "and why wasn't I informed, earlier?"

Klink stepped forward. "I, uh…I have been trying to reach you all night, Major."

"I finally got the message, Klink." Hochstetter turned towards the two agents from Dusseldorf. "What is the meaning of this?"

"This is an execution. We have Goering's authorization." Bergmann handed Hochstetter the sheet of paper.

"This is my jurisdiction, Major Bergmann. Oh, I'm sorry. Captain now, isn't it?" Hochstetter sneered; then raised his voice. "Now, let me see if I have this straight. You found Hogan outside of camp in a civilian suit, and he hasn't been questioned."

"No, Major. There was no need. He's our prisoner, and he is to be executed as per the new policy."

Hochstetter got right into Bergmann's face. "How can you not question this man? He's the most dangerous man in Germany! He's responsible for all of the sabotage around here!"

"I'm flattered, Major, but that's really sort of impossible. I..."

"Hogan, shut up," Klink told him.

"Goering's signature," Bergmann reminded Hochstetter.

"I tell you what. I will question this man back at headquarters. When I'm finished with him, I will call, and you can bring him back, and put whatever is left of him in front of the firing squad. Is that satisfactory, Captain?"

Bergmann caved. "Yes, Major." He and Fritz stomped off to their car, while Hogan tried to stop his knees from buckling.

Klink ran over to Hochstetter. "Major, I must protest!"

"Oh, shut up, Klink." Hochstetter took hold of Hogan's arm, and before Hogan could open his mouth, shoved the colonel into the back seat of his car.

Hogan's fear immediately disappeared, and his training kicked in as he began to assess his situation. His only hope, he figured, was to somehow break out of the car; not an easy feat with his arms cuffed behind him.

"I know what you're thinking, Hogan." Hochstetter unlocked the handcuffs. "You're not getting out of this car." He slipped the cuffs through a metal bar bolted into the seat and reattached them to Hogan's wrists.

So much for that idea, Hogan realized. He was trapped. All right, fellas. No ambush. That's a dead giveaway that we have Underground contact. Okay. This situation is maybe worse than the firing squad. At least, that would have been quick. He closed his eyes, and leaned his head on the back seat.

Several kilometers outside of camp, Hogan sensed that the car had slowed down. It was almost imperceptible, but his keen pilot's senses caught the change. Curious, he opened his eyes. The road was clear; no one else was in sight, and the woods hugging the road appeared quiet. Suddenly, Hogan heard a pop, and the car began to swerve. Hochstetter cursed and brought the car to a halt.

"I can help you change the tire, Major," Hogan offered.

The agent growled back, exited the car and headed to the back. Hogan could hear the trunk open, and felt the car shake with Hochstetter's movements, as the Gestapo agent removed the tools.

Hogan again leaned back and closed his eyes. He impatiently began to wait for Hochstetter to change the tire, but was interrupted by the sound of yelling; both from Hochstetter and a small group of men. Was this an ambush? Hogan tried to twist around to see what was happening. There were more noises, which seemed to fade away. Hogan frantically tried to pull at the metal bolted into the seat; then he attempted unsuccessfully to free himself from the cuffs. And then his luck began to change, or so he thought when a face peered through the window.

It was kid, maybe seventeen or nineteen, perhaps. He pulled at the door, but it was locked.

"Go to the front!" Hogan yelled. He had no idea if the boy spoke English. However, the boy either understood, or figured it out. He opened the front door and climbed in.

"Who are you?" He said in German.

"POW," Hogan replied in English. "."

"Ah, Yank." The boy nodded. He ran off and returned a few minutes later with a key. He reached over and freed Hogan.

"Thanks, Danke," Hogan said. He opened the door, left the car and looked around. He saw no sign of Hochstetter. Is he dead? He hadn't heard a gunshot. Although he now figured the pop he had heard was the shot that took out the tire.

Two men, in their early twenties by the looks of it, came forward. They were both carrying weapons.

"Look guys," the younger one said to the others in German. "We rescued a Yank!"

"How do you know he's a Yank?" one, a blond, replied.

"He said so?"

"He could be working for them." The other one, a brunette, pointed his gun at Hogan.

"Hey," Hogan said. "Do you speak English?" He didn't know these three, and didn't want to chance speaking German. The three ignored him.

"We have to go before someone comes. What about him?" The young one said.

"He comes with." The blond said. He motioned to Hogan. "Come."

"I'm fine. Danke. I can manage." Hogan smiled, and started to walk away.

"Nein!" All three jumped in front of him. The guns began waving.

"Easy," Hogan said. He held up his hands.

"Come," the blond insisted.

Hogan followed them to a truck hidden in the woods, while the three continued to argue. Finally, the blond, who appeared to be the leader, made a decision. "He mustn't see where we're going in case he's one of them," he argued.

"Fine." The other two agreed.

"Get inside," they said as they motioned towards the back of the truck.

Hogan was becoming convinced he was dealing with amateurs, who were obviously not sent by his men. But amateurs could be trigger happy, and he obeyed.

He was quickly blindfolded, and the truck took off. Judging by the distance and the feel of the road, Hogan assumed they had headed into Hammelburg. After the truck stopped, he was then guided up three flights of stairs and into an apartment. The three rescuers sat him in a chair and removed the blindfold.

October 13, 1944 7 a.m.

"Well now," Hogan said. "Now what?"

"What is your name?"One of the boys said very loudly and very slowly, as if that would suddenly set a universal translator into motion. Hogan almost pointed to his jacket and then stopped. He smiled.

"Stupid. That's not going to make him understand," the blond said. He pointed to himself. "Josef."

"Gunther." The young one stepped forward. Oscar was the brunette.

"Robert," Hogan replied.

"Robert." The three repeated.

"Yes."

"Wait." Josef disappeared and returned a minute later with two books. A German-English phrase book, and one with Allied insignias. He showed them to his friends.

Oh for Pete's sake, Hogan thought. These guys are going to get themselves killed. If he ever got out of here, he would have to get someone to set them straight.

Gunther kept a pistol trained on Hogan, while the other two started pouring through the books and checking Hogan's insignias. They backed away, whispered amongst themselves and then came forward. "Officer?" one said in English.

"Yes, Colonel." Hogan pointed to his wings, and then to the label on his jacket.

"Colonel?" Gunther asked in a confused tone. "Hogan?"

"Um," Hogan paused. "It's like an Oberst, and it's Hogan." He corrected Gunther's pronunciation.

"Oh." Gunther turned to his cohorts. "I'll bet he's a pilot," he said. "Probably from the camp."

"How do you know he's from the camp?" Josef demanded.

"He said so. In the car. He said he was a POW. We could help get him to Allied lines," he said excitedly.

That sounds promising. Hogan then began to get a better look at the apartment. It was small, threadbare, and barely furnished. There was a room; a bedroom from the looks of it, a bathroom and a tiny kitchen, all situated off of the living area. Hogan glanced out the window, which surprisingly had curtains that weren't drawn. After several seconds, his instinct that he was in Hammelburg was confirmed; as he could make out a sign over one of the hotels located near the center of town.

The apartment was extremely neat. Perhaps this was an Underground safe house. But, the three boys were almost incompetent. Yet, they did successfully ambush a Gestapo staff car. And what happened to Hochstetter?

"Excuse me," Hogan interrupted their strategy conference, which consisted of arguing how to find the best way to get him to the Allies.

"What happened to Hochstetter?" He sighed. They didn't understand. "The driver?" He made a motion like he was driving a car. "Gestapo."

The three conferred amongst themselves. Josef came over and patted Hogan's shoulder. "The driver is okay. Good?" He pulled out the phrase book. "Woods."

"Dead?" Hogan asked.

"Okay." Josef repeated. Hogan gave up and got out of the chair. Bad idea.

"No. Sit." Josef pointed the gun. Hogan sat back down. He was getting frustrated, and a little concerned that the Gestapo would be bursting in any second. Once Hochstetter was reported missing, Hammelburg would be crawling with agents. If his body was found; well Hogan didn't want to think about it. It was too late to start speaking German. He had made his bed, and was now forced to lie in it. Perhaps he could speed communication up a bit.

"Can I see your book? Bitte." He pantomimed the opening and closing of a book; then looked up.

Josef, still holding the weapon, handed Hogan the dictionary.

"Danke," Hogan said as he started to flip through the pages. The book was a prewar dictionary, and didn't include such handy words as POW or Stalag. Oh well. Hogan decided to work with what he had, and pretended to be almost entirely ignorant of German.

"Let's see." He began to look at the pages. "Prisoner," he said in a horrendous German accent. "13."

"Ah, Luft stalag 13!" Oscar, along with Gunther, had joined Josef.

"Yes. I go out. Leave. Please. I'm okay." They seemed to know that word.

"Nein." Josef was firm. "Nein." He grabbed the book. "Not safe."

"Wait." The three boys went back to the table on the other side of the room.

Hogan noticed that one had kept his eyes on him the entire time. They began to discuss his fate, again. Quietly. Very quietly. Hogan strained to hear what they were saying.

"He wants to ... make his own ..., I think," Josef pointed out.

"If he's not who ... he is, and we let him go, ...turn us ..." Oscar stated. "I say we ... chance."

Josef was quiet. It appeared he was mulling over the situation. We should ... Otto ... hand ... let him.

Hogan heard the word Otto. Was it his contact Otto? He doubted it. Otto was a common name, and none of his contacts would be associated with kids who didn't seem to know what they were doing. He regretted not speaking German, immediately. He might have taken control of the situation right then and there. Chalk one up in the mistake column. Impatience setting in, Hogan began drumming his fingers on his thighs. He was also exhausted, and was in danger of dozing off. Finally, it looked like the three stooges had come to a consensus. Josef disappeared into the bedroom, and returned with some rope.

Oh, boy. Now that's not a good sign, Hogan thought as Josef walked over to the chair.

"Is it something I said?" Hogan cracked. He sighed, and moved his arms around to the back of the chair.

"Sorry," Josef said in English. He began to tie the rope around Hogan's hands.

"No problem," Hogan replied. Josef and Gunther then left the apartment, leaving Oscar holding the fort, so to speak. At least, Hogan now understood why they had tied him to the chair. It was the first smart thing they had done since he was rescued. Except, as he quietly tested the knot, he realized it wouldn't have passed the inspection for a Cub Scout badge. He'd be out of it in minutes. Of course, Oscar still had, what he assumed, was a loaded pistol. So, Hogan decided to sit and wait for this mysterious Otto. He assumed that's why the other two had left. He only hoped that the man spoke some English, and that the day wouldn't get even worse that it already was.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Chapter 4  
Friday the 13th, Hogan Style

Chapter 4

October 13, 1944 8 a.m.

Over an hour went by, and Hogan and Oscar passed the time by exchanging small snippets of conversation, assisted by the German-English dictionary. Hogan learned Oscar was twenty, and had been a math student at a university he refused to name. Hogan attempted to teach the young man how to say Connecticut, and failed. Eventually, Hogan decided he needed to use the bathroom. It took a good quarter of an hour to get the message across, and convince Oscar to untie his hands and let him loose. The boy kept a very steady hand on his weapon while Hogan was walking around the apartment. He was obviously wary, and held a distance between them, preventing Hogan from possibly overpowering him. Actually, Hogan wasn't sure he wanted to escape. He was genuinely afraid if he fled, he'd jump right into another gang of Gestapo agents patrolling outside. He could, of course, exchange clothes, but he had no idea when the others would be back; so, he reluctantly sat down, and allowed Oscar to tie him to the chair. This time; however, the knot was tight, and Oscar added another piece of rope around Hogan's torso for good measure.

"Don't trust me?" Hogan grinned. Oscar smiled back, but let the gun hang down a bit. Shortly after this exchange, Josef and Gunther returned with Otto. Otto was middle-aged, and was not someone Hogan recognized. "I don't suppose you speak English," he asked hopefully.

"Yes, I do," the man replied.

"Oh, thank the Lord. Listen," Hogan said quickly. "I really appreciate what your friends here did for me, but you can let me go. Really. Maybe take me to the outskirts of town, or even give me some clothes, and I'll be out of your hair. I can take care of myself, and you don't want to get caught hiding a POW."

"You are a POW? From where?" Otto appeared somewhat amused by Hogan's plea.

"Stalag 13." Hogan gave the man a quick once-over. He seemed pretty calm, and in control.

"The boys here claim you are a Colonel! Impressive. So, Colonel Hogan, we will see to it that you get to Allied territory, safely. Okay, I have a plan."

"Oh, great," Hogan sighed. "And may I ask what that is?"

"No, you may not," Otto laughed. "All in good time. Sit tight… Is that how you say it?"

"Close enough," Hogan grumbled.

Otto walked up to the chair. "I do believe you. But, in these times, no chances are to be taken. Are we clear?"

"Crystal clear," Hogan muttered under his breath.

"Good," Otto said happily. He gave Hogan a friendly slap, and then turned to the boys. "Be ready in exactly two hours."

The next two hours crawled. The boys fed Hogan a sandwich, and gave him some water, but they refused to let him go. Eventually, he couldn't fight the fatigue, and he dozed off. Hogan was jolted awake by Gunther, who was undoing the ropes. Now extremely stiff, and fighting a sore neck, Hogan stood up and stretched; but his misery continued as he was again blindfolded, led down the stairs, placed in the flatbed of a truck, and covered with an assortment of burlap bags and blankets. He was relieved; though, to see Otto had returned.

October 13, 1944 10 a.m.

"Stay down and be quiet," Otto told him. "We have a bit of a ride."

"Got it." Hogan, who had no idea where they were heading, settled himself in for an uncomfortable trip, with Josef along for company. So much for jumping. It was Hogan's last chance to make a run for it, and head for the camp and its tunnels, but the odds were again stacked against him. No surprise, considering how this day was going.

October 13, 1944 11 a.m.

After an hour of bumps, potholes and several checkpoints; which rattled Hogan's nerves, but seemed a piece of cake for Otto, the truck rolled to a stop. The driver slipped out, and the guard and the reluctant passenger hopped down. They were greeted by, to Hogan's utter shock, a British pilot and a two-seater; with the engine running and the propeller turning.

"Afternoon, folks," the pilot said cheerfully. "Need a lift?" he asked Hogan. "Oh, I'm sorry, sir." He saluted.

Hogan returned the salute. "Uh, sure. Yes. Where the hell are we?" He looked around. "You landed here in daylight?" Hogan asked the pilot.

"Sure did. Had a lot of trouble, but, the Jerries lost sight of me. We best be off."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Hogan climbed into the plane. At this point, he had to trust that this really was a British plane, and a British pilot. At this point, he didn't care. He just wanted to take off, and get the hell out of wherever he was.

"Good luck, Colonel," Otto yelled as the plane began to roll. He waved.

"Thanks," Hogan waved back. "Are we landing in France?" he yelled to the pilot as they became airborne.

"No, sir, England. An airbase near Dover."

"Okay," Hogan yelled back. "Sounds good." Hopefully I'll be in London before dark, and I can figure out what the hell to do next. Happy to be in the air, Hogan sat back, and enjoyed the flight.

October 13, 1944 1 pm.

For some reason he couldn't explain, Hogan was a bit surprised when the plane actually touched down at an air base near Dover. He thanked the pilot, and hopped into a jeep driven by an MP that took him to the main building; where he was led into a conference room.

After the preliminary introductions and tea, the commander of the airbase, Group Captain Edward Bellamy, peppered Hogan with the usual questions. The normal interrogation one would expect if one was an escapee.

Finally, the colonel was told to get comfortable, while Bellamy excused himself to make a few inquiries, as he called it. Hogan poured himself another cup of tea, and relaxed for the first time in hours; no, days, it felt like. He stared out the window, gazing at the planes parked on the tarmac. Realizing that the group captain had been gone for a while, Hogan glanced at his watch, and began to walk around the room. Seeing a paper, he picked it up, sat down and began to read. He read every article, and then picked out the coded messages hidden within the notices. He glanced at the cricket scores, the stock returns and the rental ads.

October 13, 1944-3 p.m.

Hogan skipped the casualty lists, and worked on the crossword, finishing it in pen. Finally, as he contemplated chewing his fingernails, the door opened. Bellamy, followed by two MPs, walked in.

"We have a wee bit of a problem," Bellamy stated.

"A wee bit of a problem," Hogan repeated. He stood up.

"Yes. Sorry, but due to, uh, a certain recent severe security breach that happened last year – well, almost happened last year – we have to take you into custody, until we can be 100% sure with no doubt that you are you."

"No," Hogan tried to remain calm, "What type of security breach?"

Bellamy looked embarrassed. "Let's just call it possible identity theft. Headquarters wouldn't get more specific, except that the Jerries attempted it once, and they may try it again."

"You're kidding."

"Sorry."

Identity theft. Hogan's wheels were turning as he was led to this base's version of the cooler. A cell, with bars, a cot, sink, toilet and desk.

"Sit tight. I'm sure we'll get this all straightened out in no time at all," Bellamy assured Hogan.

"Yeah, no time at all." Hogan unhappily sat on the cot and pondered his fate. Roberts! He quickly got up. "Bellamy. Wait!" Roberts. That was the identity theft. It had to be.

Bellamy turned back.

"I, uh…" Hogan couldn't explain he was aware of the identity theft. Face theft actually. How could he? The guys at this base didn't know about the operation. He was now between a rock and a hard place. Oh boy.

"I have a friend, group Captain James Roberts. I have no idea where he is, but we were very close. He could vouch for me."

"Roberts is a common name. Do you know where he flew out of before you were shot down?" Bellamy asked.

Hogan told him.

"I'll pass this on to headquarters. If it's your lucky day, perhaps we can find him and you'll be free to go by dinnertime."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it, Colonel." Bellamy took off.

Lucky day. Yeah, right. Hogan flopped back on the cot, and began counting sheep.

Bellamy came by every so often to update Hogan. Bellamy's headquarters were not the same as Hogan's headquarters, so locating Roberts was proving difficult. Hogan knew his command center in London would have kept tabs on Roberts, and he was almost certain that his friend wouldn't have been sent back into action, but he couldn't suggest Bellamy contact Special Ops. So, he waited. And waited. Supper came and went. The sympathetic MPs brought the colonel a book to read, but he couldn't focus. Hogan was convinced he would be spending his second full night locked up in a cell. He was now getting ornery, and he really needed a shower, and he was worried about the men back in camp. He flopped down on the cot, and fell asleep.

October 13, 1944 – 11:00 pm

"He hasn't been located yet," Bellamy informed Hogan later that night, "But don't give up. Right?"

"And if you don't find him?" Hogan's voice rose in frustration.

"Oh, we'll sort it out, eventually. Not to worry. But you have to understand; I have to follow my orders."

"I know, it's not your fault. It's just the way this day started. And now this!"

Bellamy asked the guard to open the cell. He dragged the chair away from the small desk, and faced Hogan, who was seated on the cot.

"I spoke to some people," Bellamy said, "Called in some favors. Thought to myself, why put someone through this? We don't see too many escaped POWs, you know."

"Well," Hogan agreed, "It's not easy."

"You'd think they'd give you a medal."

"Or a nice dinner," Hogan laughed.

"Glad you're keeping up your sense of humor. Good man."

Hogan was beginning to really like this group captain, even if he did have him locked up in the only cell on the base.

"Anyway," Bellamy continued, "One of my old chums spent time working in the Cabinet War Rooms. He filled me in on some information. Top secret."

"And that would be..." Hogan had a not so vague idea.

"This sounds fantastic, but he swore it was true." Bellamy moved in closer, and lowered his voice. "This identity thing; they're edgy, nervous. Apparently, a German mole almost made it all the way here."

"Disguised as an Allied officer?" Hogan offered.

"No, worse; looking like an Allied officer. Plastic surgery."

"Oh, c'mon," Hogan grinned. "That's ridiculous. It sounds like science fiction."

Bellamy shrugged. "That's what I said. But, he swore it was true. So, it could explain why everyone is so touchy."

One word, one word, and I can take care of this. Hogan was now so tired and fed up, despite Bellamy's company, he was almost ready to cave in, and have Bellamy place a call. But no, he couldn't. He had to hang in there. "What about my old unit?" he asked Bellamy. "Someone's got to still be there."

"Well, I found out the 504th has been redeployed. Not sure where," Bellamy explained.

The Manhattan Project. "That's inconvenient," Hogan replied, "Figures."

"Yes, it is. Bad luck, there. But, if we can't locate this Roberts fellow, they'll send some people over tomorrow. There are still men at the base who should be able to confirm you are you."

"Or, we could fly my mother over," Hogan quipped. "She would know in two seconds flat."

Bellamy chuckled and then got up. "Well, Colonel, I will keep you posted, and I'll be up all night. Tell the guard if you need anything."

"Raid?"

Bellamy nodded. "They're all going out."

"I know how that is. Good luck."

And so, as Bellamy left to monitor his group, Hogan became the recipient of another pot of tea and plate of biscuit. He checked his watch for the umpteenth time, and finally sacked out on the cot and tried to fall asleep. It was five minutes to midnight on October 13th. Hogan went through everything that had happened to him that day. "This is one for the books. Well, tomorrow can't be much worse," he said as he observed the second hand sweep past the number twelve on his watch. It was now October 14th. (1) "Tomorrow's another day. Yippee!" Hogan covered himself with the blanket and eventually fell asleep.

(1)What a coincidence! That's my birthday. I had no idea that was going to happen when I checked a 1944 calendar, looking for the appropriate date. (A Friday the 13th, after D-Day.)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Chapter 5  
Friday the 13th, Hogan Style

Chapter 5

October 14, 1944 5 a.m.

Hogan was awakened by the sounds of planes returning to the base. He listened for the sirens indicating a damaged plane was coming in. Fortunately, he didn't hear any. Although he usually joined his group on their missions, Hogan had been in Bellamy's shoes as well; when he was grounded for a short while due to an injury. He understood how nerve-wracking it was for the commanders waiting behind on the base.

He walked over to the sink and splashed water on his face. Ugh." Hey," he signaled the guard, who was from the looks of it, trying to stay awake. "You don't suppose I can get a toothbrush?" The private sprang up, and returned several minutes later with a full set of toiletries. "Oh, you made my day." Hogan thanked the guard, who didn't look a day over seventeen.

"Thank you, sir."

Hogan was caught in mid-shave when a corporal arrived and requested his presence in the conference room. "Sir, I believe someone has arrived to identify you."

Hogan quickly threw on his now wrinkled shirt, and followed the corporal to the room where he had first met Bellamy hours before. Anticipation hit his stomach as he wondered who had arrived.

"Guess who we finally tracked down?" Bellamy remarked cheerfully. After being up all night, he looked none the worse for wear. "Group Captain Roberts! Seems he was out flying around the channel; protecting the coastline. But, that's not important."

"That's the best news I've heard since that Gestapo agent showed up in camp," Hogan replied with relief. Looking back, Hochstetter did have good timing.

October 14, 1944 6 a.m.

Bellamy opened the door. Roberts, who had been glancing at the same paper Hogan had looked at, came forward. "I think I can take it from here," he said to Bellamy.

"You sure?" Bellamy asked, while Hogan gazed at this friend; who looked at him with a bit of suspicion.

Roberts nodded at Bellamy, who left, closing the door behind him. Hogan, who couldn't blame Roberts for thinking he might not be who he said he was, spoke first. "Long time, no see."

"Colonel Hogan. Last I heard, you were in a prison camp in Germany."

"Well, it's like this. I got caught escaping. Do you know they had me scheduled for a meeting with a firing squad? Yesterday at 6 a.m." Roberts showed no sign of emotion. "And, Hochstetter came in and well, it's a long story. You know, I was put in the same cell we broke you out of. The one with the movable sink."

A change came over Roberts' face.

"Bobby?" He came forward.

"Bobby?" Hogan laughed. "The only one who can call me that, and get away with it, is my mother. Robbie, you know that!" (1)

Roberts grinned. "Good to see you. I thought it was you." He picked up the paper. "Crossword done in pen! But after what happened with…" (2)

"Can't blame you one bit; would have done the same thing." Hogan sat down. "Oh, am I tired. What a day I had yesterday."

"Hang on." Roberts walked over to the door and opened it. Bellamy, who was waiting outside, came into the room.

"Well?"

"It's him. No doubt."

"I knew it. Congratulations." Bellamy pumped Hogan's hand.

"I need to get to London," Hogan mentioned. "But first I need to make a private call."

"I can take you to London. I drove here," Roberts said. "You owe me. It was dark and scary driving without headlights."

Hogan shrugged. "Danger is your middle name," he joked.

"Use this phone here." Bellamy pointed. "Tell the operator the number. We'll be outside."

"Thanks." Hogan pulled himself together. For the first time in over 24 hours, he was beginning to feel relaxed. Not totally, but getting there.

"This is Colonel Hogan. Alpha Charlie 799186."

"One moment," the British woman on the other end told him.

A man, who identified himself as the Officer of the Day, came on the line. "Colonel Hogan! Where are you? Last we heard; you were MIA."

"It's a long story. Right now I'm on a base near Dover. I'll be on my way over to you in a few hours."

"That's good news."

"Do me a favor. Contact my men and tell them I'm here."

October 14, 1944 7 a.m.

Shortly later, Roberts and Bellamy filled Hogan in on war news and updates, while the three had breakfast. He listened politely, and made the appropriate comments, although he had already been kept up to date by London. Hogan was planning on regaling Roberts with his accounting of the previous day's events on the trip into headquarters.

October 14, 1944 8 a.m.

"Well, Colonel Hogan, good luck to you. I hope you enjoyed our hospitality."

"Now that it's all sorted out," Hogan replied, "I can honestly say it's the nicest time in prison I've spent." He shook Bellamy's hand. "Actually, thanks for tracking down Roberts, and you know, those rumors, I still don't believe them."

Seconds after Roberts' car left the gate; he turned to Hogan and said, "So, I assume you weren't really escaping."

"Your assumption is correct. I suppose I should start from the beginning." Hogan laughed. "That should take the entire trip."

"I'm listening."

"Well," Hogan replied. "Technically it started a year ago, with a wedding."

Roberts went a little pale as Hogan got to the part when Bergmann ordered his execution. "Word's gone out to the officers about what happened to those poor blokes from Stalag 3. I don't know if it's dissuading anyone. "

"Our escape processing has slowed down," Hogan admitted. "But listen to this. I really assumed Klink would manage to stop it, until lucky me. Guess who was in Dusseldorf?"

"Hitler?"

"No, Goering. He signed off on the orders."

" And Klink… I suppose he had no choice. He had to cave." Roberts commented.

"Except, he called Hochstetter," Hogan continued.

Roberts let out an involuntary shudder at the mention of the Gestapo agent.

"And Hochstetter was fuming. You see he almost missed his chance on finally getting an interrogation."

"So, he took you away to work you over?" Roberts shuddered again.

"Yup. He convinced those two goons that he would. He told them when he was done; they could put whatever was left of me in front of the firing squad. At that point, I would have chosen the firing squad."

Roberts nodded his head in agreement. "Rather than be tortured for information. Tell me. You had access to the tunnel. Why didn't you just leave?"

"My men wanted me to. I did think about it," Hogan recalled. "But there was no way out except through the floor. They would have found it. And evacuating one-thousand men just to save me. Some of them would have been caught and shot. Nope. So I sort of came to terms with it."

"Sort of?

"Hmm. Never mind," Hogan continued. "So I got thrown into Hochstetter's car. Locked in, and off we went. A few kilometers out, bang, flat tire."

"Not a coincidence, I presume."

"You know. It was odd. I felt the car slow down at first. But someone shot out the tire. It was an ambush."

"So your luck turned."

"Sort of. I was rescued by three kids. The Underground amateur hour." Hogan shook his head as he recalled his fear, for them, and himself. He filled Roberts in on his experience at the apartment, including the language barrier.

"You really got yourself into that one," Roberts laughed. "Don't you think sometimes you can be too careful?"

"Yes. Actually now I do. Considering I spent an entire night in a British cell on a backwater airbase because someone had to make sure I'm me. No. I'm kidding." Hogan looked out the window. "In this line of work you can never be too careful."

"You are probably right," Roberts answered. "So the story doesn't end in the apartment."

"Nope. Next comes the mysterious, but more professional contact." Hogan got up to the part where he landed in England and stopped. "You know the rest."

"Rob, you do realize yesterday was Friday the 13th?"

"No." Hogan had completely forgotten what day it was.

"I have to commend you. If it were me, when I got to the base, and ended up in their little penal system, I think I would have blown a gasket."

"If Hochstetter had shown up one minute later, I'd be dead," Hogan said. "That's hard to forget, and put that little bit of inconvenience in perspective. Besides, Bellamy was a good guy. He wasn't a bad warden."

"What I don't get is this Otto fellow, and those three kids. Why would he be associated with those three, if they were so amateurish? You'd think he would train them a bit better."

Hogan yawned. "That reminds me. When I talk to the camp, I've got to tell the guys about those three. Someone's got to read them the riot act before they get picked up. You know, I never found out," Hogan yawned, "what happened to Hochstetter."

"He's probably dead, I suppose." Roberts glanced at Hogan. "Close your eyes. I'll let you know when we're there."

October 14, 1944 10 a.m.

So much had occurred over the last 36 hours that Hogan's mind was spinning. He approached the area from which he and his men received their orders with some trepidation. It's over, he thought to himself. It's really over. I can't go back. Control agents and clerks came over to greet him when he walked through the door.

"Yeah, I'm alive. No thanks. What is it with the tea? Actually, what I really need is a shower and a clean uniform."

"We notified your men, Hogan. Wembley had worked his way through the crowd. "Oh, you do look a bit ragged." The British control agent ushered Hogan out of the room, and over to a housing area. Roberts trailed behind.

Hogan let the hot water wash away the tension and sweat that had accumulated since he had been arrested outside the Hofbrau. He tried not to think of not being there for the men. I'll be damned if they assign another Crittenden. Not if I have anything to say about it.

Now feeling more coherent and effective in a clean uniform; Hogan followed Roberts back to the radio room.

"Ah, that's better, old boy. You looked like something the cat dragged in."

"Thanks, Wembley. Look, I want to be in on finding my replacement," Hogan stated.

"No need to worry about that right now. We've got to get you debriefed."

Hogan rolled his eyes. "I figured." He turned to Roberts. "We should have had a stenographer in the car. Would have saved us time, and trouble."

"Sorry, Hogan. No sympathy from me on that point. "You should have seen how many times I had to repeat my story when I got back. It was a nightmare," he recalled. "Good luck." Roberts winked at Hogan. "I'm off to renew some old acquaintances; then I have to get back to my unit."

"Oh."Hogan was disappointed. "Well, I guess I will be seeing you soon. Lunch?" He patted his pockets. "I've got nothing. It's on you."

Roberts laughed. "Always the con artist. You're on. Give me a ring once you're settled. Good luck with your replacement," he whispered.

"All right, let's get this show on the road," Hogan announced. "But first, can I please call the camp?"

"Goldilocks calling Papa Bear. Come in." Hogan, having gotten his wish, was on the radio.

"This is Papa Bear. Colonel, is that you?" It was Kinch. "It's good to hear your voice."

"It's good to be here." Hogan could hear the other men in the background crowding around the radio.

"We have some news, sir," Kinch said. "I don't know if it's good or bad. I guess it depends on how you look at it."

"Don't keep me guessing, Kinch. Spill it."

"We got word that Hochstetter is alive. Seems he was found by some locals, stumbling by the side of the road, a bit beaten up, but okay. Boy, was he mad."

"I bet," Hogan answered.

"Why didn't that Underground team kill him?" Kinch asked.

"Beat's me," Hogan replied. "Nothing those kids did made much sense; which reminds me. I'll have to get you a description and possible location of their hide-out. You've got to get someone to find them, and set them straight before they get themselves killed."

"Now I'm confused," Kinch said. "Are you saying they were amateurs, sir?"

"Oh, you don't know the whole story."

"No, sir. Just that the Underground ambushed the car, and somehow you got flown back to England."

"When I'm done with the debriefing, I'll fill you in on the rest."

"Will do," Kinch paused. "I have some other news about the two agents that had you arrested."

"They're not going after the men?" Hogan, now fearful, asked.

"No. This is good." Kinch paused and then continued. "But, hard to believe."

"Try me, Kinch. After what happened since yesterday, I'll believe anything."

"This morning, Klink was notified that their bodies were found dumped outside Gestapo headquarters in Hammelburg."

"They're dead! Can this mean I can go back? Do they know who killed them?"

"No, but it looked professional," Kinch answered. "Hochstetter will be in charge of the investigation."

Hogan was now confused. His mind was racing. They're dead, gone kaput, and so is the execution order, I guess. But what about Hochstetter? I need to think this over.

"Kinch. I need to talk this over with the brass."

"I know, sir. Hochstetter is still out there." Kinch sounded disappointed.

"Hang in there," Hogan said. "I'm signing off."

Wembley, who had been standing by, asked Hogan if he was ready," I take it you got some good news, Hogan."

"Sort of. I don't know, but maybe we won't have to find a replacement."

"Absolutely not" was the response from the higher ups, when Hogan mentioned the possibility of returning to Stalag 13.

"If Hochstetter was going to interrogate you yesterday, he'll sweep you up as soon as you're back, and then everyone, including you, is in trouble," General Butler pointed out. "We've invested too much into you, and the operation, to have that happen." He refused to budge.

"You won't be doing your men any favors, either," Wembley added. "Besides, you said you refused to hide before your execution, just so you wouldn't have to order an evacuation."

"I did," Hogan admitted.

"Hogan, you won't be letting the men down if you don't return. They understand what's at stake. If Hochstetter gets to you..." General Tillman said.

"Stop, sir. I know." Hogan sighed. "I guess that's it, then. I'm done."

"I'm afraid so, son." Tillman was about to say something else, when an aide entered the room.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, sirs, but a priority one coded message came over a special frequency. It's for Colonel Hogan."

"Go ahead," Butler said.

Hogan took the paper from the aide, and opened it up.

"It's from Nimrod," he said, a bit shocked. "It says it's safe to go home. That's all."

"Let me see that." Butler asked. Hogan passed him the paper. "That's the correct code and frequency."

"It's safe to go home," Hogan repeated. "Home, meaning Stalag 13. Not the states; I presume."

"This may change things." Wembley was a bit awe-struck.

"He's been close, real close." Hogan looked at the two generals and other assorted big-whigs seated around the table. He stood up. "I'd like to go back. If Nimrod says it's safe, well, I trust his judgment. You know what he's done. My gut tells me this is kosher! " (3)

"It did come in on his specific radio frequency," Wembley noted.

"Gentlemen, I think we should talk this over." Tillman leaned back in his chair.

"I agree. Colonel Hogan, you're dismissed," Butler said. "We'll notify you when we've made a decision."

And so, Hogan, his fate now again in someone else's hands for the third time in less than 48 hours, paced back and forth in the room to which he had been banished. Although to be fair, he had to admit; the door wasn't locked. There were no bars, and he had a comfortable leather sofa to sit on, rather than an uncomfortable cot that was attached to a wall. But other than those subtle differences, he was still feeling like a puppet. And that's why, he knew, he had to get back. He wanted... no...he needed to be in control, to not have generals breathing down his neck and looking over his shoulder. To be able to think outside the box, get feedback from his men, put his somewhat over the top convoluted plans in motion. No matter how miserable Stalag 13 was, he was determined to see his mission through. To aid in the rescue of downed fliers, act as a transit station for escaped prisoners, harass the enemy, and most important; keep everyone, including himself, alive, until the Allied tanks rolled through the front gates.

"We've agreed to send you back, Colonel," Butler informed him about an hour later. The generals offered no other explanations, and left Hogan wondering if they had contacted Nimrod.

"I appreciate that. How? When! The sooner the better. Easier to give Klink an explanation."

"We can drop you in tonight," Wembley told him.

Hogan was relieved. "Do me a favor, Wembley. Contact Roberts for me, and tell him I'll take a rain check."

(1) Personally, I can't see him being called this. I prefer Robert, or Rob. (I think some of us at have dubbed him that) although, Hogan introduced himself as Robert, on the show. But Bobby is often used as a nickname for Robert. (I have personal experience with this), so I used it.

(2) "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to London." I should have put this in the previous chapter, so I apologize for any confusion.

(3) "The Missing Klink"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Chapter 6  
Friday the 13th, Hogan Style

Chapter 6

October 15, 1944 midnight

48 hours after he had been arrested and brought back to camp through the gates, Hogan returned via the tunnel entrance.

A gang of happy prisoners greeted Hogan as he climbed down the ladder.

"Stop," he commanded. "Don't all talk at once. It's a long story. Right now I need to think."

"We had some ideas on how to get you back in, sir." Carter said as he approached.

"Personally, I think the simpler the better. Thanks LeBeau," Hogan said, as a mug of coffee appeared in his hand.

"First things, first," Kinch said. "How are you feeling?"

Hogan chuckled. "Dog-tired and filled to the brim with tea."

"It does you good, sir," Newkirk told him. "It's like a tonic."

"Thanks, Newkirk, but I don't need that picture in my head."

October 15, 1944 8 a.m.

Hogan brazenly walked up to the front gate. It took several seconds, plus the colonel waving his arms, before the two guards at the gate realized who it was; but they sprung into action, and marched him over to Klink's office.

Klink was so stunned to see Hogan standing in front of him that he forgot to put in his monocle.

"Why in heaven's name did you return this time, and don't tell me it was the delousing station at twilight." (1)

"It was the glistening of the morning dew over by VIP headquarters," Hogan replied without missing a beat.

Klink stared, looked down, put in his monocle, and then came out from behind his desk. "Weren't you afraid of those two Gestapo agents, and their order?" Klink asked.

"After the car was ambushed, I spent some time with the men who attacked the car. They spoke some English. Well, eventually I explained what had happened the night before, and they nicely informed me that the two agents were kaput."

"Kaput?" Klink repeated.

"Dead," Hogan replied.

"Dead. Yes, they are dead." Klink nodded. "This Underground cell, Hogan. I'll bet they had a part in that."

"Guess they were busy. Can I sit down, sir?"

"Yes." Klink returned to his seat behind his desk. "You still haven't explained why you came back, after you tried to escape, and…What took you so long to get back here?"

"Honestly, sir. After what happened, I was uh, afraid of getting caught again, and shot on the spot."

Klink appeared to be mulling that over.

"I also wanted to make sure none of my men thought about going under the wire," Hogan added. "Oh, and honestly, I did have to make up my mind to come back. That's what took so long. Can I go now?" Hogan stood up.

"No. Who were the Underground people? What did they look like?" Klink picked up a pencil.

Hogan started laughing. "C'mon. You don't expect me to rat these people out."

"Sixty days in the cooler, Hogan. You still owe me a punishment for your attempt the other night."

"They were wearing masks," Hogan answered. "And they spoke some English. That's all I know."

"They were with you all of the next day?"

"No, sir. They pointed me in the right direction, and I took off. I don't think they expected to find a prisoner in Hochstetter's car."

"About Hochstetter," Klink interrupted.

"Well," Hogan said innocently. "He was, was... I'm trying to think of something nice; don't stop me. He was loud and short. Wait." Hogan snapped his fingers. "He had great timing."

"He's not dead," Klink said.

"Seriously, stop joking."

"I'm not joking. He was picked up by some civilians, battered, but very much alive, Hogan."

"I'm sure he'll forget about the whole affair!" Hogan asked nervously. "He hasn't been here, has he?"

"No. But once he finds out you're back."

"Don't tell him."

"I'm obligated to give him this information. Besides, Hogan, he'll find out eventually."

"I think I should have kept heading west." Hogan muttered. "Can I go now?"

"Go." Klink, already forgetting about the sixty days in the cooler, waved him off.

"I don't get it. Why would Nimrod tell you it's safe to come back if Hochstetter is still out there? He could come back any minute, and throw you right back in the car." Kinch, as well as everyone else in the barracks, was puzzled and concerned.

"The brass thought the same thing. They didn't okay this right away," Hogan recalled. "It took them an hour. They might have had contact with Nimrod. All I know is, they gave me a thumbs up."

"What I don't get," Newkirk said, "is why those kids didn't kill him."

Hogan shook his head. "I have no idea. I can't figure it out. They just kept saying 'it's okay.' The whole thing was weird." Hogan began to recall other certain details that struck him as odd. The car slowing down. The curtains in the apartment not being drawn. The ineffective knot. The conversation in German held on the other side of the room…in whispers. The neat hideout. It all bothered Hogan, and he didn't know why.

October 15, 1944 Noon

Later that day, Hogan was outside, getting a much needed dose of fresh air, when a Gestapo car came through the gate. Major Hochstetter exited, and stormed into Klink's office.

Oh boy. Carter, who was keeping Hogan company, felt his stomach do several flip flops as he and the Colonel rushed into the barracks to plug in the coffee pot.

"How are you feeling, Major?" Klink, who couldn't hide his nerves, asked.

"I'll live," Hochstetter growled, "which is something I can't say for those men who attacked my car. When they're caught."

"No, Major. I mean, yes. I agree."

Hochstetter removed his coat, revealing a cast covering his left arm.

"Your arm. Here, let me take that." Klink hung the coat on the rack.

"Broken." Hochstetter sat down. "Have someone fetch Hogan."

Klink didn't respond.

"I know he's here."

"You do?" Klink acted surprised. "Oh, of course you do." He fumbled through some papers on his desk. "I was just about to notify your office. He returned when you…"

"Shut up." Hochstetter reached over the desk. "Hand me the report. And get Hogan in here."

Klink pushed the file over. He picked up the phone. "Guard, have Colonel Hogan brought to my office, immediately."

Hogan unplugged the pot, opened his desk drawer, removed something from a hidden compartment, and stuck it into his pocket. He then went into the common room. His entourage followed.

"Uh, one word sir, we'll hide you in the tunnels, and you'll be out to the sub in a jiffy."

"Same script as two nights ago, Carter." Hogan smiled at the sergeant.

"Hochstetter is bound to try taking you out of camp again," Kinch pointed out.

"I know."Hogan dejectedly looked out the window. Schultz was heading towards the barracks.

"I think we should arrange for an ambush, Colonel, and this time, take care of the major properly."

"I agree with Newkirk, sir," Olsen said.

"And then what? Come back a second time, and hope the Gestapo lets two attacks go."

"Or disappear like before," LeBeau said in a quiet voice.

"They'll be all over camp looking for Underground contact, radios. They'll sweep the area." I don't know what to do, Hogan realized. But Nimrod. Nimrod said it was safe; and he's been here before. Hogan was confused and anxious. But he hid his anxiety from the rest of the men, and slowly followed Schultz to Klink's office.

For the fifth time in less than three days, the colonel's fate was in someone else's hands. Now convinced he had lost complete control of the situation, Hogan put on a brave face, entered Klink's office, and greeted Hochstetter.

"Long time, no see, Major."

"Sit down, Hogan," Hochstetter, who was now standing, pulled over a chair. Hogan sat, and attempted to squelch the annoying habit he had of drumming his fingers on the arms of the chair when nervous.

"Major Hochstetter, I must insist that as a Luftwaffe officer, I accompany Colonel Hogan when he is being questioned, as per regulations."

"Klink. I told you the other day; that regulation carries no weight. When Hogan was caught outside of the camp, he was out of uniform."

"But, but...," Klink stammered. "He was an escaped prisoner. He has returned."

"Case closed." Hogan looked up at Hochstetter. "Don't I get points for coming back voluntarily, Major?"

"Points for stupidity, maybe," Hochstetter shot back.

"No need to get personal," Hogan grumbled. "Let's get this over with."

"That was low, Major, even for you." Klink concurred.

Hochstetter let out a cross between a growl and a snarl. "Actually, Colonel Hogan, I'm not pulling you in for questioning."

"You're not?" Hogan was shocked. "Not that I mind. No wait." Hogan sunk down a bit in the chair. "You're not planning on..."

"An execution. No." Hochstetter removed a sheet of paper from his pocket. "It seems the authorization signed by Goering was just that, an authorization. Not an order. An order that gave the agents who brought you in, carte blanche to do what they wanted. Personally…" Hochstetter leaned over the chair. "I think it's too good for you. I'm not done with you yet, Colonel." To Klink's and Hogan's astonishment, Hochstetter tore up the authorization, and tossed the shreds of paper in the wastebasket; leaving both Klink and Hogan speechless.

Hogan absentmindedly put his right hand in his pants pocket, and fingered what he had dropped in there. He quickly took his hand out.

"I'm continuing my investigation. Contacting everyone who was at the Hofbrau that night, looking for anyone you were seen with... and then, Colonel, I'll have more than enough information to make your questioning... interesting," Hochstetter grinned, which was to Klink, a scary sight.

Hochstetter wouldn't find his contact. At least something went right. Hogan attempted to get out of the chair, but the major stopped him.

"Stay, Hogan."

Now what? Hogan was losing his patience trying to figure out the Gestapo major's angle. Was he getting off too easily? He wasn't sure.

"You spent some time with the Underground members who freed you. I want to know what they looked like, how they sounded, what they told you."

Hogan grinned. "Why should I tell you?"

"Because, if you don't, I'll pull in your men and ask them. I'm sure you brought them up to date."

"They wore masks," Hogan admitted.

"Did they speak English?"

"He said they did," Klink, running interference, interjected.

"Did they now?" Hochstetter raised an eyebrow. "Colonel Hogan, would you describe their interaction with you as professional or amateurish?"

"They wore masks," Hogan repeated. "That's all I'm saying."

"Hmm." Hochstetter leaned over the chair, and looked right into Hogan's eyes. The Gestapo agent's expression had changed, and it momentarily took Hogan aback. For a few brief seconds, the coldness disappeared, and then quickly reappeared. "Professional or amateurish, Hogan," Hochstetter repeated.

"Neither." Hogan shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "I didn't witness the ambush. I was locked in the car. I didn't see what they did to you. And we weren't together for very long. I told the Kommandant they pointed me in the right direction, and then we parted company."

"Just like that?"

"Yeah, just like that."

Hochstetter straightened up. "Klink, give me your report on this."

The Kommandant handed over the sheet of paper. Hochstetter glanced at it.

"I'll be revisiting this matter, Klink."

"Yes, Major, I'm sure you will. Anything else?" Relieved to hear the interrogation was over, Klink walked over to the door and opened it.

"Colonel Hogan?"

Hogan stood up. "Major?" Hochstetter had to look up at the colonel to meet his eyes; something Hogan had once thought really irked the Gestapo officer.

"I'll be keeping my eye on you." Both men maintained eye contact.

Was that a hint of a smile on Hochstetter's lips? No. Hogan shook off his confusion as fatigue. I'm losing it, he thought.

Hochstetter left the office without saying another word.

"Oh, I'm glad he's gone. Hogan?" Klink snapped his fingers.

"What? Sorry. I zoned out there for a moment. Can I go now?"

"Yes, go." Klink sat down and picked up a file.

Hogan didn't go directly back to the barracks, but took a detour. He began to walk around the camp perimeter, ruminating over the meeting with Hochstetter. One weird situation on top of another. The word amateur popped into Hogan's brain. I told everyone the kids in the cell that rescued me were a bunch of amateurs. Hochstetter asked me if they were amateurish. He tore up the execution authorization. He didn't remove me for questioning. "What the hell is going on?" Hogan said out loud. "Don't mind me," he growled out both to the prisoners who stopped what they were doing, and a few guards who ignored the officer.

"I think I may be going nuts," Hogan announced to the barracks when he barreled through the door. LeBeau, who was cooking, froze in mid-stir. Carter, Newkirk, and Olsen put down their cards, while Kinch rolled off his bunk.

"You hear everything?" Hogan asked.

"Yes, sir," Kinch replied. "Um, you didn't come back right away. Is something wrong?"

"I was told it was safe to come back. By Nimrod, no less." Hogan paused, poured himself a cup of coffee, and drained it. "Oh that's better. Where was I?"

"Nimrod?" Carter answered.

"Right. So I come back, and Hochstetter appears on schedule, bam. Why did that surprise me? I knew he wasn't dead."

"The brass; you said you thought they may have double-checked with Nimrod?" LeBeau took Hogan's empty mug, and brought it over to the sink.

"Definitely." And then Hogan continued. "He shreds the execution order, and uses the exact same words."

"Authorization," Kinch reminded Hogan. "Not order. Isn't there a difference? And what same words?"

"Subtle, Kinch. He asked me if the Underground cell was amateurish."

"You don't think?"

"Can't be. No way," Hogan replied.

"No wonder you think you're going nuts. Oh sorry, sir."

Hogan ignored Carter and kept talking. "The car slowed down and then pop! The three kids were not your typical Underground unit. I was blindfolded, but they left the curtains open. They claimed they didn't speak English, and thought I didn't speak German, yet they went to the other side of the room and whispered. One guy tied a knot a ten year old could slip out of."

"Almost as if they were daring you to make a move?" Newkirk asked.

"Yes." Hogan pointed at the corporal. "Then they left me alone with someone who knew well enough to keep his distance, and then tied a knot as good as one of yours, Carter. At that point, they obviously didn't want me going anywhere."

"That's bizarre," the sergeant replied.

"Yes!" Hogan agreed. "And then they show up with their handler. But they seemed so ..." Hogan couldn't think of the word.

"New at this?" LeBeau offered. "With them having a dictionary and insignia books."

"Stupid if you ask me," Olsen said. "They still shot out a car tire, but didn't kill the Gestapo agent. Why ambush a car and leave the guy alone?"

"They didn't realize who they had?" Hogan guessed. "I'll bet they were afraid of retribution. That's got to be it."

"So, all these hows and whys. Just coincidence? And the two agents that were killed?" Olsen asked.

"Has to be," Hogan announced. "There is no way in a million years…. Hochstetter? No way. And we can't even think that way, not for a second."

"No, sir." Everyone in the barracks agreed.

"You've had a rough two and a half days, Colonel." LeBeau walked over to the stove. "I made a nice lunch." He lifted the lid off the pot and stirred.

(1) From "Hogan Go Home"

The end


End file.
